Devotion
by Lady Venom2
Summary: RvB Story. Some devastating news hits the occupants of Red Base. Warning! Adult themes dealing with HIV/AIDS. Will deal lightly with slash a few chapters in. Nothing graphic.
1. Chapter 1

Franklin Delano Donut never stuck to things for very long, his attention span was easily altered by something newer, brighter, better; leaving other things in the dust. The only thing that had ever earned his never ending devotion was the Marines, was Blood Gulch. It was his home away from home, his _preferred_ home.

And he would do anything he could to stay with his team.

It had been a routine check up; Doc had shown up and scanned them, checked their blood pressure, taken blood samples and informed them he'd have their results in two weeks. It was clock work. Except, after two weeks he was back at the base looking worried and asking for one of the Red Team soldiers.

Thinking back, Donut couldn't believe how absurdly idiotic he had been, how _naive_. He had told Doc to let him know if his fat count had gone up, because it meant his newest diet wasn't working. He remembered how he started to panic when he saw the medic, and started cursing Cosmo for lying to him. When he led them both to Donut's bedroom, he tried to laugh it off, telling Doc he could tell him quietly in the rec room his fat count. It _had_ to be smaller than Grifs', at least.

"I would prefer talking to you alone..." Was all he had said, sombre enough to silence the jokes Grif and Simmons had been trying to make. The pair watched quietly as the medic and soldier walked down the hall.

Doc removed his helmet, motioning to the chair beside a desk with it. "I think you should sit down."

He had tried to crack a smile, "C'mon Doc, you're starting to worry me here..." He joked, sitting down nonetheless.

Doc took a deep breath, a hand running through his brown hair nervously. "Donut, you need to know that this is coming late, and it's entirely my own fault. Normally, I'd have sent out your blood work to an actual facility to be tested. But O'Malley's been adamant to not let anyone know our location. But I managed to get them out this time, and they returned the results to me in a fax...I...well...Donut I'm so so sorry..." He looked at the blonde pleadingly.

"My blood...? What's wrong with my blood?" He felt his voice start to waver as real fear crept in.

"I just...don't know how you could have gotten it between the last time I sent the samples to be tested six months ago and now. You've been here the whole time right?"

"Yes, I've ---no...No I haven't." He thought back. "About a year or two ago I was sent back to command after I was hit with the grenade. I was in a hospital for a while before they brought me back." He felt his whole body start to tremble. "Doc...What is wrong with me? What's wrong with my blood?"

Doc mused about tainted needles, a rarity but it still happened sometimes; "Donut...you've...Your blood work came back HIV positive." There, he said it.

The young Marine stared at Dufresne, his hand clutching the arm rest of the chair before he burst into hysterical laughter.

"That's a good one! You really had me going there for a minute." He stood up, smiling, shaking his head.

Doc stared at Donut incredulously, "Donut I'm not making this up, you need to listen to me. Your doctor must have re-used a needle or something. You _have HIV_."

Donut sliced the air with his hand, "No. That's impossible, I mean look at me! Do I _look_ like someone who's got that? I'm perfectly fit, and besides, Doctors don't make mistakes, there's no way!"

"There's a _reason_ it's called the Silent Disease, Donut...it doesn't show signs till it's in the final stages. You need to let me start you on a medical routine. I already ordered in the needles and medicine you'll need to take."

The blonde covered his ears, "You're lying, and I am NOT taking whatever it is you ordered, you can just _send it back_! Because I'm _not __**sick!**_"

"Yes you are! I'm trying to HELP you!" He couldn't help yelling back, he couldn't bear to think of Donut denying his body the medicine it needed to fight the disease. He was thankful that he had taken off his helmet; he didn't want to think of what O'Malley might try to say to the distraught young man.

"Get out...get out of my room!" He reached over to the desk beside him, grabbing a book and throwing it at the medic, not sure why but just needing to do _something_ to stop the thoughts, the shaking, the _knowledge_ that his life was never going to be the same again.

Ducking out of the way Doc sighed, retrieving his helmet and leaving the bedroom. Nearly running into Simmons, Grif and Sarge at the same time, once the door shut behind him he looked at each one in turn.

"I have something you need to hear..."

**-2 hours later-**

A knock on the door distracted Donut from his position on his cot; face down into his pillow already stained with tears. When he refused to acknowledge whoever it was, the knock came again, more forcefully this time.

"Donut, open up, it's me. Doc told us." Came Sarge's gruff voice from the other side.

"Well Doc lied because I don't!" He screamed at the door, clutching his pillow like a lifeline to normalcy.

When the door opened, Donut buried his head between the wall and his pillow, refusing to look at the older man. Seeing Donut lying sprawled on his bed, shoulders still shaking, he felt his heart wrench. He moved quietly to the bed, sitting on the edge and laying a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"You're gonna hafta take the medicine...you know that right?"

Donut sniffled. "But..." _But that means admitting it's real..._

"Don't worry son, Doc told us everythin' we need ta know. Yer medical will cover the costs...but...well..." He wasn't quite sure how to say it. "I ain't sure in yer condition if you should stay in the army."

Whipping around fast enough to nearly knock the Sergeant off the bed, Donut clasped his hands in utter supplication to the man.

"Please...please Sarge...I'll do anything just don't send me away." Red rimmed and blood shot eyes from hours of crying brimmed up again.

Sarge watched the young man before him, on his knee's hands up and pleading. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Two conditions then an' ya gotta abide by them." He began authoritatively, when Donut nodded he continued. "I need ya to take whatever medicine Doc gives ya, an' ya gotta make sure one of us is with ya so I know yer takin' it." When Donut began looking worried, Sarge glared at him. "I'm serious soldier."

"What's the second condition?" He asked tentatively.

"If ya start gettin' worse n' Doc thinks ya need a real hospital, then yer goin'. No fights, no questions asked."

"But...but it's the hospital's reason I'm like this!" He yelped, fear bubbling up inside him at the thought of going back to one; he shook his head, tears running down his face. "I'll take the stupid medication, but I just _can't_ go back to the hospital..."

"But ya gotta Donut." He felt himself start to waver, he hated tears. He was about to push the subject when a thought occurred to him. "What if someone went with ya? Someone ta be there with ya for the tests? Would that make it better?"

The distraught Marine thought it over before conceding with a sniffling nod of his head. Sarge smiled and pulled Donut into a fierce hug but the younger man flinched and pulled out of it.

"I don't want you to catch it!"

Unable to stop himself, Sarge chuckled. "Son, ya can't catch what you got from a hug...it's okay." He opened his arms up a bit, letting Donut see if he really wanted to be comforted by the older man or not.

Slowly, timidly, Donut leaned into Sarge's embrace. When the strong arms closed around him, holding him tightly, he felt himself break down all over again and gripped onto his C.O's shirt for all he was worth as he cried himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N I forgot to add that Whoa_There1187 on LJ beta'd this for me. The story was inspired by the song Devotion by Necessary Response. If the medical jargon confuses you, please let me know. It means I didn't do a good enough job explaining it. :)

**---Chapter Two----**

_-6 Months Later-_

Simmons stared across the table at Donut; "Please, just take the damn pill? It's not that bad, really."

Donut glared at the older man, "Easy for you to say, you don't have to take a whole pharmacy with your breakfast!"

The maroon soldier sighed, having had this argument before. "Donut, three pills is _hardly_ a whole pharmacy. And you know why you have to take the two new ones. If you don't, the nerve damage will spread farther than just your limbs."

Donut glared at the little red pill with its mood stabilizing white cousin. "Stupid brain." He muttered, picking both up and swallowing them with his orange juice.

"Now open up," Simmons leaned forward, checking around the younger man's tongue and between his teeth and cheeks. "Good, now Sarge is waiting for you."

Donut groaned, "Do I _have_ too? It's not fair! These stupid exercises are pointless; my feet still feel weird when we're done. Besides, didn't it say I'm supposed to wear loose footwear anyways?"

"Yes, but it also said to increase your blood flow with exercise, and you _know_ Sarge set this up to help you, so don't be nasty to him, okay?"

"Easy for you to say, _kiss ass._" Donut sneered.

Simmons groaned and ran a hand through his hair, Donut's moods and hostility were starting to become the norm, but it was certainly taking its toll on those around him. Like the first time he had actually come out to sit with them in the rec room, after the devastating news.

_5 ½ Months prior_

Donut peeked his head around the door, hoping no one would be watching T.V so he could have it all to himself; noticing Simmons seated on the chair reading he turned, preparing to go back to his room and hide out but he hit the door frame when he turned, alerting the other man to his presence.

"Hey, long time no see." He called out carefully, with a small smile.

Donut turned, bashfully waving at the older man. "Uh, yea, hey...d'you mind if I turn on the television?"

Simmons shook his head and waved in the direction of the tattered sofa, "Help yourself."

Mumbling a soft 'thank you' he moved over and sat carefully on the sofa, turning the T.V on and flicking aimlessly through the channels, his leg bouncing up and down with nervous energy. The new medicine was always making him drowsy and listless, which he figured was why his toes always had pins and needles in them. He found bouncing his legs kept the tingling away.

He had told Doc about it, but only at Sarge's insistence and the medic said he would look into possible reasons why that might be. Donut didn't want to admit it, but Sarge had been a life saver on many occasions. Bringing him his meals when Donut didn't feel good enough to get out of bed after starting the new medication regiment; keeping him busy enough so he didn't have time to dwell on the problem at hand. He had never known Sarge was so good at playing cards, but after the first few nights, Sarge had hauled his bed into Donut's room to keep an eye on him.

At first, the young Marine had felt it was a little over the top, and tried to shoo the older man out of his room. Until the one night he woke up trembling and covered at sweat, nightmares of himself dying away as a husk in a hospital bed still swam before his eyes; that he was grateful for Sarge's strong arms and comforting bed. It was after that night, playing every card game under the sun till dawn that Donut stopped trying to kick Sarge out of his room.

Hearing someone at the doorway, Donut looked over from his position on the sofa, noticing Grif. For his part, the Hawaiian merely glanced back, then quickly away as if unsure of how to act. Moving to the sofa (the only last piece of unoccupied furniture), he sat on the farthest side over from Donut.

Agitated that Grif was acting like he was a leper, he let it slide as he settled on a movie and reclined.

"Hey Simmons, can you hand me that magazine?"

Glancing up from his book, he looked at Grif quizzically. "Donut's closer, ask him."

The orange marine looked at the magazine, glancing sideways at Donut who was making it a point to not look like he was listening, before standing up and reaching over to fetch the magazine himself. Stretching far, he finally flopped back on the sofa, curling up against the armrest, feet splayed out on the coffee table.

Setting down his book, Simmons glanced at the other two soldiers. "I'm getting a drink, you guys want one?"

Donut smiled up at Simmons, "Some apple juice, please."

"Uh, nothin' for me man."

As Simmons left, an uncomfortable silence enveloped the room, each turn of the magazine page a magnified sound the grated on Donut's nerves.

A few minutes later, and Simmons was back, a tall glass of milk in his hand and a small one of apple juice for Donut.

"Hey, pass this over for me, will you?"

Grif stared at the glass for a second, before taking it by the bottom of it and handing it over carefully to the young man, wary of touching him. Donut stared at Grif holding the glass like it would break if he handled it too hard.

"What the hell? Are you afraid to touch me or something Grif?!" Donut yelled out, hands flying in the air to punctuate each word.

"I-no!" He set the glass down on the table.

"Then what is it? You walk in here, sit as far away from me as possible, don't even acknowledge me and now you won't even let the off _chance_ that my fingers will touch yours on a glass of _apple juice_?!"

The two older men just stared at Donut bewildered.

"What, do you think you'll catch it from me by _touching_ my _fingers_?!" He paused then sneered, "Or are you worried I'll _turn_ you _gay_?" His eyes narrowed, "That's it, isn't it?! You think I got this by fucking a guy! Well I fucking didn't, okay! I didn't fuck some infected guy! Some nice _doctor_ at a _hospital_ gave it to me, are you fucking happy yet?!" Tears brimming up, Donut jumped to his feet, running down the hall way to his room, shutting and locking the door against his new roommate in case he came back due to the commotion.

Simmons just stared over at Grif, still speechless, while Grif stared back.

"I...I had a peanut butter sandwich...and I didn't want him to have an allergic reaction." He whispered.

-_Present-_

"Please, just go and do what Sarge says? Doc has to come later and check your cell count afterwards, and then you have the rest of the day to yourself." He bartered, hoping it would work. "And command listened to your request and sent out some ice cream."

Donut's face lit up, "Really? Brownie Batter Chocolate?"

Simmons had to think if that was what it indeed was, but he couldn't remember. "Uh...it _looked_ chocolate, and I saw darker bits in it, so...possibly." He raised a hand, "You can have some _after_ the training and _after_ Doc takes the blood samples."

Pouting, but certainly in higher spirits, Donut nodded and hurried off to change and join Sarge. Wearing the MJOLNR armor had started to become harder to do, it felt heavier than before, but the last month it had started to get better. _The training must be paying off_, he thought, affixing all the pieces and instantly turning the heat up on the regulated temperature and hurrying outside.

Sarge grinned beneath his visor, happy to see his youngest soldier out on time.

"A'right there cupcake, we're gonna warm up with a few laps 'round the base."

Nodding, Donut turned and started off at a slow trot, picking up his pace as he started to warm up. His legs and feet started their usual tingling, which he had grown use to over the months. It merely meant the medication was starting to slowly work, letting his brain know that there were nerve endings that needed to be woken up.

Despite hating having to take the medication, he was told by Doc day in, day out, how well he was doing all things considering (whatever that meant). Aside from a little weight loss and only mild nausea his physical symptoms were actually almost non-existent. But the depression, hostility, and excessive nightmares were all still there, but each night, so was Sarge. Helping him, keeping his mind focused on how high his T-cell count was, and that he was a Marine, and Marines don't quit.

Thirty minutes later and Sarge told Donut he could stop jogging, running over to the red commander, Donut huffed, his stamina not what it used to be.

"We're gonna work on target practice since it's been a while since you've been on the field...how's that sound?"

Donut smiled, happy to not be moving around. "Sounds good to me, who're we targeting?"

"Well, I've been spyin' on those nasty Blues, and I seem to have found a pattern wit' one of 'em." He led Donut up to the top of the base, where he had a sniper rifle set aside, and pointed across the canyon.

"Ya see that groupin' of rocks over there beside their base?" When Donut had the sights on the cluster, he continued. "There's this one Blue that goes out to them fer a bit every three hours or so, I want ya to see if you can hit 'em on his way to the rocks."

Zooming in on the scope, Donut relaxed his finger on the trigger, "You mean the teal one? Okie dokie!"

Targeting the teal soldier's legs, Donut fired and grazed the left leg. A shout erupted from across the canyon.

"Hah! I hit him!" He shouted giddily.

"Great work soldier!" Sarge clapped Donut on the back, grinning happily. "Think you can do two fer two?"

Nodding, he took aim again, this time with the teal soldier twisting and turning around frantically trying to see where the shot had come from. Just as he was about to fire, he suddenly felt dizzy and he saw _two_ teal soldiers, shooting he heard a _ping_ as it ricocheted off the rock. Donut lowered the gun with a sigh, "Sorry Sarge..."

"S'alright you hit 'em the first time, and that's what counts." He kept his voice optimistic, not showing his own worry at his best shot missing. "'Sides, here comes Doc anyways."

From the valley floor, the purple armoured medic waved up at the pair, while Donut frowned underneath his helmet. He always hated Doc's visits, because it meant he had to get jabbed with more needles. But he had promised Simmons his cooperation so he went inside the base willingly, waiting for Doc to come to his bedroom after shucking the armor and pulling on a sweater. He couldn't help but find the base was colder as of late.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Doc asked, entering the room with an upbeat attitude.

"Still sick I see...." O'Malley's voice piped up, happily taunting.

Not even bothering to shush the AI, Doc quickly removed his helmet, setting it far away from the pair to silence his scathing jokes. "Sorry about that."

Donut merely shrugged, "It's okay."

As Doc readied the needle with gloved hands, he spoke up happily, "I did get your results back the other day. Your cell count is above four hundred!"

The blonde soldier looked confused, "Is that good?"

Doc motioned for Donut to roll up his sleeve so he could take a blood sample and nodded. "Yes, we've been over this before, remember? Two hundred and below is bad, and AIDS territory, a normal uninfected person has a T-cell count of seven hundred to a thousand. And a healthy infected person has a cell count of five hundred. So you're almost to a healthy level for your situation!" He tied a tourniquet around Donut's upper arm and tapped the vein, watching it rise.

"Oh...thanks." He looked away, needles every week and he still couldn't watch, but he felt as it slid in, the sharp pinch then flooding coolness around the area.

"If you reach five hundred, you won't have to take any extra medicine, you'll be able to stop the HIV pills." He hated to say that, because he didn't want to stop Donut's treatment in case he relapsed, but a lengthy conversation with a doctor back on Earth informed him that they rarely treated a person with HIV over a three hundred and fifty cell count. So Donut was still lucky to be getting the medicine to keep his count high.

This time Donut _did_ perk up. "Really?"

"Yup, no more pills. But that means you have to keep taking them till I tell you to stop, or else your blood could become resistant to it. Okay?" He withdrew the needle and the inner tube popped out, setting it aside in the case he brought, and disposing of the needle into a bio-hazard bag he brought with him. Holding a cotton ball to Donut's arm till the bleeding stopped, he quickly taped up a band aid to it. Donut rolled down his sweater sleeve while Doc cleaned up before disposing of his gloves in the same bio-hazard baggie.

"Here, to be safe." He offered Donut a squeeze from his anti-bacterial gel bottle.

"Thanks..." he squeezed some onto his hands and wiped till they dried while Doc mimicked the action.

Standing, the medic closed up his small kit and retrieved his helmet, already hearing O'Malley from inside, yelling at the young brown haired man for denying him the pleasure of taunting the medically ill.

"I'll let you know the minute I get the results, but till then, you're good for another week." He smiled. "Got anything planned for today?"

Donut stood, happier than he'd been in a long while after hearing such good news about his cell count.

"I'm going to go pig out on chocolate ice cream." He grinned.


End file.
